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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341951">A Favor for a Friend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/biancarambles/pseuds/biancarambles'>biancarambles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, M/M, Pining, some alcohol consumption</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:42:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/biancarambles/pseuds/biancarambles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As if being hopelessly in love and sharing a room with his best friend Jaskier isn’t hard enough for poor Geralt, he just can’t say no when Jaskier asks him to accompany him to his grandfather’s funeral. What better way to get back at Jaskier’s estranged, homophobic family than attending the funeral with a handsome (fake) boyfriend in tow? Any heartbreak on Geralt’s part is just collateral damage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Secret Santa 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Favor for a Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hirikka/gifts">Hirikka</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t that Jaskier was clumsy and ditzy and over excited about everything. It was more that, everywhere he went, a tornado of scattered papers, slammed doors and dramatic gestures always followed suit, whatever the occasion.</p><p>So when Jaskier made a dramatic entrance in their shared student room, phone in hand, face pale and drawn, Geralt remained unperturbed. It was usual business, after all. An audition gone wrong, somebody picking up the last crunchy peanut butter jar, a difficult parallel parking witnessed by one too many passersby… It was really anybody’s guess what was wrong that particular Tuesday afternoon.</p><p>“It finally happened,” Jaskier announced, deflated, leaning against the tarnished doorframe. “I just got off the phone with my mother and the old man has bitten the dust. A heart attack.”</p><p>“What? What old man?”</p><p>“What’d you mean what old man? How many old men do you think I know? I’ll have you known that the rumours about me being on Seeking Arrangement are absolutely unfounded.” Jaskier sighed, rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, phone still in hand. “My grandfather, quite possibly the most despicable man to ever walk the earth.”</p><p>“My god, Jaskier, I am so sorry.” Geralt got up from his desk, walked over, circled his arms around Jaskier in a hug and gave him three pats between the shoulders, feeling extremely stupid. Being bad at comforting people is one thing, threading the same line with your roommate and best friend with whom you’ve been in love for months is on a whole other level.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Jaskier replied in between sniffles. “He was truly a terrible man.”</p><p>A noncommittal “hm” wouldn’t hurt.   How long was it socially acceptable to hug people before it became weird? Reluctantly Geralt took a step back, giving Jaskier a once-over.</p><p>There was a weary look in his eyes, so dangerously close to the verge of tears, and Jaskier cleared his voice to fight them back. “The funeral is tomorrow – my lovely family didn’t think about informing me with any notice –  and I am to attend under penalty of being disinherited.” He laughed and it was a mean, hollow sound, not one of the genuine laughs that Geralt was accustomed to and loved so much.</p><p>“Shit. Do you want me to come for emotional support or something?”</p><p>Jaskier waved dismissively. “I don’t want to impose. It’s gonna be plenty awful with my shitty family in attendance.”</p><p>“I have the day free anyway tomorrow. They cancelled practice.”</p><p>“You’re oddly eager to come to this funeral.” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  </p><p>“I don’t <em>want</em> to come, but I would if you wanted me there.”</p><p>“You don’t actually mean that, right?”</p><p>“Well, if you need me, I do.”</p><p>“Wait a second.” Jaskier’s eyes, already huge, widened even more and one corner of his mouth (the left one) curled upwards ever so slightly. It set off all of Geralt’s alarms. “Did you actually mean that?”</p><p>“Hm, sure?” It was never good when Jaskier got <em>ideas</em>. They lead to trouble and little else.</p><p>“I think you should actually come. As my boyfriend.”</p><p>Geralt raised an eyebrow.</p><p>While it wasn’t news that Jaskier’s plans led to trouble, it mostly manifested in stolen street signs, burnt edibles and firefighters in their halls of residence. This was a different kind of trouble, one that Geralt wasn’t keen on gambling on. Being around Jaskier was already hard enough, but at least Geralt could convince himself to be special, one step above all of Jaskier’s various flings, the one Jaskier would always eventually come home to. Now that he’d be able to hold him with no meaning, he’d have nothing. “I’m not so sure. How would it help?”</p><p>“Firstly, it’s gonna be great fun for me. Secondly, my family will hate it.” And before Geralt could add anything else, Jaskier raised a third finger up to shush him. “Thirdly, you’ll get the very best – not to mention free – wine and food money can buy. Beluga caviar, Wagyu beef hors d’oeuvres, the finest of Brunello di Montalcino imported straight from Tuscany, the sparkliest and Frenchiest among Dom Perignons…” He trailed off, almost envisioning that cornucopia of earthly delights before turning to Geralt with a smug grin on his face. “They don’t spare any expense when it comes to showing off.”</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>Jaskier smiled in a malign way that didn’t suit him. “They are raging homophobes but they sure know how to throw a party.”</p><p>“I don’t love the idea” is what Geralt should have said, but what he said instead was “Would that make you feel better?” Resisting those blue, watery pools was just too damn hard.</p><p>“Oh, absolutely darling. We’ll drink, eat and be merry and I’ll hold your hand the entire time.” He paused for a second, then blurted out: “If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”</p><p>“I…” Geralt trailed off. He was definitely not okay with that. In fact, actually, doing exactly that, having Jaskier without really having him, was his personal idea of hell, but how could he say no to somebody whose grandfather just died? “I guess I can endure it for a day.”</p><p>“Great, I owe you one,” Jaskier rubbed his hands entirely too excitedly for somebody whose grandfather had just died. He glanced at his phone, rolling his eyes at the text notification. “Be ready tomorrow morning at 8. They are sending a car for me.” He huffed. “I guess they didn’t want me to escape my social obligations.”</p><p>“Sure.” Geralt swallowed, throat dry, cursing himself for being the worst kind of lovesick moron unable to say no. He did love about 95% of Jaskier’s personality but that feral, chaotic 5% would have made any reasonable man/woman/human person weak to his knees. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Once they stepped off the (outrageously tacky) black limousine, a long, gravelled drive greeted them, welcoming them into one of the most impressive houses Geralt had ever seen in person – colonial style, with kitschy stark white columns spangling the imposing facade. The cypresses lining it swayed gently in the November breeze, cold enough for Geralt to shiver a little under his light jacket, his only jacket fancy enough to pass for formalwear.</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t spoken since they had left campus over two and a half hours earlier. This was highly unusual for him and the silence was more than unnerving.</p><p>They hadn’t taken more than ten steps when Jaskier tapped on his shoulder. “Do you want to do shots?”</p><p>Geralt turned around to see him grinning a Cheshire cat grin, coat unbuttoned and ever so disheveled, already halfway done with the screw-up top of a small metal flask. Geralt shook his head. Jaskier often was ill-timed at best but this meant sure trouble.</p><p>Jaskier shrugged. “More for me.” He took three long sips and grimaced. “Tastes terrible. I promise that the alcohol there tastes much better. They aren’t as cheap as me.”</p><p>They walked some more, the uneasy silence weighing heavy over them, and, as the house loomed closer, Jaskier was growing increasingly nervous with each step.</p><p>In between each row of cypresses, Geralt could see rolling hills and rows and rows of branchy grapevines heavy with grapes. The neat flower beds lining the driveway were meticulously curated, a triumph of blue and pink hydrangeas, the soil dark and rich. It was beautiful.</p><p>“Here is the Lettenhove estate in all its glory.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you were… rich.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, that. Didn’t the limousine tip you off?” Jaskier kicked the gravel with his shiny shoes, digging his hands in his pocket. “Well, my family is rich. Me, not so much. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother with those nasty cafeteria lunches and the dreadful scholarship application process.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“In any case, I now feel obliged to warn about my family’s general unpleasantness.”</p><p>Gerald didn’t say anything because, really, what was he supposed to answer? He didn’t know those people and, however unpleasant, they were still his best friend’s family.</p><p>Jaskier stopped walking and looked at him, tilting his head. “Are you okay? You are very quiet.”</p><p>Geralt swallowed. “I’m fine.” </p><p>While he was a pro at repressing his emotions, he wasn’t such a great multitasker: holding hands with Jaskier and pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a bunch of people was too much for his own foolish, pining brain. He was doomed to trip over his feelings and admit to something stupid to Jaskier and ruin his life. Like a man walking to the gallows, Geralt was damned whatever the outcome of the day – whether it was going to end well or fail terribly, his friendship with Jaskier was going to be, once again, just a supercut of them.  </p><p>“If you say so.” Jaskier sighed and rubbed his temples, distraught. “I think we should set some ground rules.” He looked at him expectantly before continuing, “So like… what are you uncomfortable with?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>Jaskier cleared his voice, flustered, his cheeks red from the cold November air and the generous swigs he’d taken from the flask. “I mean, do you mind if we hold hands?”</p><p>The blood rushed to Geralt’s ears. It was really cold outside. “I guess not.”</p><p>“What about kissing?” Jaskier asked in a singsong voice, pouting and smacking his lip together afterwards, which led him to laugh hysterically by himself for a few seconds.</p><p>Geralt sighed, hoping his face stayed just as nonchalant. This was clearly only a joke to Jaskier; there was no point in hoping for anything different. If Geralt were smart, he would’ve cut his losses and let Jaskier go a long time ago, when all of those confusing feelings started rearing their ugly head. And yet there they were.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he said, finally.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Jaskier had raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. He had turned away from the house and was now looking at Geralt – giant blue eyes circled in red. Geralt had heard him toss and turn the whole night but didn’t dare say anything, just poured more coffee in his mug in the morning. </p><p>“I said it’s fine. You do what you gotta do to make sure we make it both out alive.”</p><p>“Oh, okay, I guess.” He shrugged and turned to the house again, sighing. “Hic sunt leones,” he said to himself before flashing a big, fake smile to nobody in particular. “Would you do me the honour?” Taking an elegant step back onto the stairs, Jaskier bowed and extended his hand toward Geralt.</p><p>Geralt scoffed, “Idiot,” and took the idiot’s hand. That idiot was going to be the end of him and it would’ve all been his own fault.</p><p>With the other hand flying over the marble balustrade, Jaskier led him to the entrance, a frankly excessive solid wooden door with kitschy doorknobs in the shape of dandelions.</p><p>Jaskier paused before the door. “Here we go.” He inhaled deeply and lifted the doorknob.</p><p>Not even after a second, the door opened, heavy yet surprisingly silent. A woman in her late fifties was waiting inside, still, stiff and all dressed in black.</p><p>“You are late, Julian.” She only raised an eyebrow but everything in her, from her sleek dark hair in a low bun, to the sparkly diamond pendant earrings and the tailored suit made Geralt feel acutely aware just of how out of place he was.</p><p>“A warm welcome as always, mother.” Jaskier chuckled drily. Geralt could swear that Jaskier had squeezed his hand tighter.</p><p>“And may I inquire who this is? I was not aware you were bringing a... guest.”</p><p>The way she looked down at their hands and hesitated before saying the last word was enough for Geralt to squeeze back in response, as if it could have dispelled the unpleasantness.</p><p>“I forgot how much you love surprises.” Jaskier smiled and it was dripping poison. “This is Geralt, my boyfriend.”</p><p>If the silence that followed was as deafening and awkward as Geralt imagined, he couldn’t have known because he was very busy having a fast succession of ministrokes.</p><p>“Well, Julian, but of course your <em>friend</em> is welcome at our little gathering.” She smiled back and, from the slightly pointy teeth, to its left-leaning curve, it looked just like Jaskier’s smile, except that it lacked all of its warmth. It was chilling. “We are nothing but hospitable towards our guests, isn’t it true, my dear?”</p><p>As she stepped back, she continued to smile unnervingly, a fixed, fake grin that clashed with her eyes rimmed in red. “Please come inside, Julian. The ceremony is about to start and you know how he hates when you are late.” She turned and walked down the foyer, her heels clicking ominously at every step.</p><p>Jaskier raised an eyebrow, then wiggled it, which was Jaskier speech for “Didn’t I tell you? I was right as per usual and that’s not a good look on me.”</p><p>Geralt shrugged. That woman gave him the creeps and he was just happy that she wasn’t looking at him anymore.</p><p>They walked straight through about six or seven rooms to emerge on the other side of the house. Jaskier’s family always stayed at least a few feet away and didn’t turn to look at them once.</p><p>Between more foyers, reading rooms, living rooms, there wasn’t enough time to gawk at everything properly. Geralt didn’t want to be staring but, really, who had marble busts on pedestals and mosaic floors?</p><p>“She seems... nice,” he attempted as delicately as he could muster.</p><p>“She is being incredibly rude. She hasn't even told you her names, which by the way is Cecelia.” Jaskier stopped and sighed, shaking his head. “Believe me, she’s fuming but wouldn’t dare upset a guest.”</p><p>“Why is she calling you Julian?”</p><p>Cocking his head to the side, Jaskier looked at him weird. “Because it’s my name.”</p><p>“No, your name is Jaskier.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Well, technically, my name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”</p><p>“Pankratz what?” From the way she halted her steps, he probably screamed rather than spoke.</p><p>Jaskier shushed him, pressing a hand behind his back to push him forward. “Don’t I know it?” He sighed dramatically as he so often did for any minor inconvenience. “It just doesn’t roll off the tongue easy, plus it’s my grandfather’s name.”</p><p>“The… uhm... dead one?”</p><p>“The very same.” As they walked by a family portrait in one of the roughly six foyers they passed through, he straightened his spine. “My mom always used to say that Grandfather would die of heartache if I refused to be called Julian.” He repressed a bitter chuckle. “Guess that won’t be a problem anymore. Besides, it’s pretty scary to see your actual name written on a tombstone in the family’s cemetery.”</p><p>“Your family has a private cemetery?” After the display of luxury of the Lettenhove estate, both outside and inside, Geralt really shouldn’t have been that surprised.</p><p>Jaskier nodded. “In between the grapevines and the cypresses, where the real world can’t soil our precious ancestors and their perennial memory,” he added with half a laugh as he pressed the back of his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes dramatically.</p><p>“How privileged.”</p><p>“We get the gardener to take care of the graves because, god forbid, we get our hands dirty and pull weeds.”</p><p>Geralt scratched his chin for a second. His Jaskier was a Julian? It just wasn’t right. “I prefer Jaskier. Julian is too… pompous.”</p><p>“Don’t forget Alfred and Pankratz too.” Jaskier counted on the tip of his fingers with a resigned grin.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The funeral was a somber affair.</p><p>A bunch of equally white, beautifully dressed and probably obscenely rich people got up and said a bunch of nice words about Jaskier’s homophobic grandfather and Jaskier’s mom cried during the eulogy. Geralt hadn’t gone to many funerals but, among the cold marble and the expensive floral arrangements, this one felt dispassionate and without an ounce of sentiment. </p><p>Every once in a while, Geralt turned to look at Jaskier to see if the tears in his eyes dared run down his cheeks. Inevitably, every time, Jaskier clenched his jaw and stared straight in front of him, squeezing his hand tighter without saying anything. Jaskier didn’t cry once.</p><p>Little by little, everybody got up and made their way to the main living room that somebody had flipped and turned into a banquet hall. On the side, adjacent to the glass doors to the balcony, and in the middle of the room there were four tables, decked out with all sorts of exotic food Geralt could imagine rich people were used to eating.</p><p>“This is a lot,” Geralt whispered at the sight of the banquet. And he thought that the all-day buffet at their favourite Chinese place was impressive. </p><p>“Everything is so extra.” Jaskier suppressed a chuckle. “It’s the only thing I’ve inherited from them.”</p><p>“Do they know it’s a funeral?”</p><p>“It’s as good an excuse as any to show off.” Jaskier shrugged as he walked closer to the first table to inspect it with a critical eye.</p><p>It seemed to be seafood themed: between caviar, lobster, any kind of shrimp you could imagine and about five thousand of those sushi pieces without rice, it invited analysis paralysis for any fish lover.</p><p>After an accurate inspection of the selection, Jaskier chose an oyster and pressed it close to his lips.</p><p>“It looks disgusting.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded, swallowing the mush, then cleaning his fingertips on a napkin. “It is disgusting. It tastes like a sea water slug.”</p><p>“Then why do you eat it?”</p><p>To the nearby waiter’s dismay, Jaskier flailed his arms dangerously close to the tray full of champagne glasses. “We always have it during our family reunions.”</p><p>“We live very different lives.” Geralt sighed, looking at the oyster plate while trying to imagine a younger but equally chaotic Jaskier fussing over them under his mom’s murderous gaze. He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Do you even like it?”</p><p>“Not really, no.” Jaskier bit his lip, pensive for a second. He looked around, eyes wide, almost as if he saw the room for the first time, jaw clenched. “You know what? I won’t eat them anymore. They taste foul and they are slimy as fuck. I don’t even know why they are so goddamn expensive.”</p><p>A few people turned around at the last sentence, said with a rather feverish tone, and stared at them. Jaskier looked around again, eyes darting everywhere and nowhere in particular in the room – the eyes of a trapped, scared animal looking for an escape. Maybe it was the shots, maybe the funeral, maybe the proximity to these soul-sucking people, but this Jaskier had nothing of his Jaskier’s usual, distinctive flair that enthralled the crowd whenever he spoke or sang. </p><p>The first rule to causing a scene, as Jaskier always loved to remind Geralt, was to be fully committed and revel in the attention, and Jaskier was not enjoying this at all. </p><p>Geralt’s fight or flight instinct was kicking in, telling him to run away. He didn’t even have to look to see it, he could just feel the eyes of Jaskier’s mom on his back, burning his nape. Despite all his best intentions, he did turn around to follow Jaskier’s pained gaze all the way across the living room.</p><p>Her lips were pursed so tight they were barely visible, her arms crossed over her chest like an armor, a single, dark eyebrow raised in what Geralt could only describe as pure and utter contempt.</p><p>After a second, Jaskier looked away at the floor, eyes wet.</p><p>“I think it’s a great idea, Jaskier.” Geralt said, slowly, fighting the urge to also look away from her. Bracing himself, he touched the small of Jaskier’s back while keeping eye contact. He’d done it countless times before, whenever he needed to squeeze through their small kitchenette and grab something from the cupboards. The familiarity was at once comforting and daunting. “Let’s get you some air.”</p><p>“And alcohol.”</p><p>“And alcohol,” Geralt conceded.</p><p>Jaskier nodded and let Geralt lead him outside through the crowded room and to the large balcony that oversaw the garden.</p><p>With a soft sight, Jaskier grabbed a flute from the half empty tray laying on the balustrade. “Did you try the champagne, Geralt? It’s simply exquisite,” he said, taking a long sip and putting it back next to him carelessly. “It’s probably the very best money can buy.”</p><p>Trying his best to smile, Geralt nodded, as he moved the flute away from the ledge and placed it in a less risky location.</p><p>“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jaskier asked, turning away from Geralt to look at the garden and, far away, at the endless rows of grapevines and at the horizon, where the sun met the sky in undistinguished, milky colors.</p><p>The cold November breeze ruffled his hair at the top and reddened his cheeks and Geralt thought that, even though Jaskier could never be his, there was no shame in just enjoying the moment, his beauty, even though it made the eventual heartbreak that much worse. “Yeah, it is,” he simply stated, unsure as to what he was referring to. </p><p>“Do you know that we make our own wine? It’s not that great but it was always fun to stomp the grapes with my cousins during the harvest.” He paused to take another sip. “Such a shame they’re all assholes.”</p><p>“All of them?”</p><p>“Well, not all of them but they won’t say anything when it matters, so it kinda makes them assholes too?” Jaskier remained silent for a moment, distractedly grazing the balustrade with a fingernail. “As if choosing to study theatre wasn’t hard enough on them, I also decided to not be straight, so we haven’t spoken in five years. Being home is… it brings up a lot of emotions.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Geralt patted his back gently, looking desperately for anything soothing to say, anything better than a pathetic ‘sorry’, and not finding it.</p><p>Jaskier finished the flute and replaced a full one on the tray with it. “Anyway, you should really have some champagne, Geralt. Let these people pay for the fancy intoxication. They can afford it and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun.”</p><p>“One of us has to be sober.”</p><p>“And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.” Gaze lost in the horizon, Jaskier laughed and, for the first time on that day, it didn’t feel forced. It was just Jaskier and him, removed from all external distractions, in their little bubble.</p><p>He stopped laughing and turned around to peer through the window, inside the banquet hall for just a second. He then bit his lower lip and shook his head, inhaling deeply, a shadow passing on his face as he unclenched his jaw and grinned at Geralt. “I have a great idea.”</p><p>“I doubt it.”</p><p>“Kiss me now.”</p><p>Geralt glanced through the window. From where he was standing he couldn’t see shit because of the reflection but, even through the glass, he could still feel Jaskier’s mother’s eyes on them. He swallowed, suddenly even more conscious of how close they were standing. “Everybody is watching.”</p><p>“Exactly the point,” Jaskier hissed with sugary sweetness, taking a step closer to him, the hand sliding above the balustrade. “If I’m going to get disowned, I may as well do it in style.”</p><p>“And you think this is worth it?”</p><p>“Obviously.” Jaskier chuckled nervously, taking a step closer while tucking a non-existent strand of hair behind his ear. “My grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he knew.”</p><p>“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all. The blood rushing in his ears, the shaky hands, the lump in his throat, the sudden difficulty to inhale. He was going to fuck everything up and he wasn’t going to be able to talk to his best friend again without imagining his lips on him and it was going to drive him even more mad than their near-constant proximity already did.</p><p>Jaskier put his arm on his, a touch so light that was somehow still enough to make his knees weak. “Are you sure it’s fine?” He paused and cocked his head to the side, giving him a quick once over, those tired eyes filled with concern. “You look like you’re gonna puke.”</p><p>“Wow, you really got game, huh.”</p><p>Jaskier rolled his eyes, smiled, and just kissed him.</p><p>So Geralt pressed his lips on Jaskier’s for the first time on a chilly November morning, on the balcony just outside the banquet hall, for everybody in the attendance of Jaskier’s homophobic grandfather funeral to see.</p><p>He tasted the champagne first, sweet and sticky but, most of all, it was so soft, an unbearable softness that threatened to envelop him and never let him go. Like a soothing salve for a pain he couldn’t even feel or the relief after scratching an itch, it simply was and it couldn’t not be. He found himself pressing his hand on Jaskier’s lower back to pull him closer, grabbing a handful of his shirt just to have him as close as possible.</p><p>The light breeze was blowing his hair against Jaskier’s face, engulfing them in an ethereal embrace, all November wind and dewy grapevines. After a second, he felt Jaskier smile into the kiss and lean in closer, pressing his body against him with a soft, happy noise that made Geralt’s stomach flutter.</p><p>With a barely held in sigh, Geralt opened up his fist and took an unsteady step back, leaning against the balustrade away from Jaskier to lose himself in the grapevines. He didn’t know what to do with the sudden knowledge that kissing Jaskier was the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Geralt couldn’t look at him, not now, not flustered and babbling after what was barely a peck.</p><p>Jaskier cleared his throat a couple of times as he went to grab the flute again and chugged it.  “It was quite the show,” he whispered softly.</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“You sure are dedicated to making everybody believe you’re my boyfriend.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Geralt grunted, burying his face in his cold hands, hoping it would help to bring the flush down. He looked wrecked and the last thing he wanted was Jaskier prodding. “On second thought, I might have to take you up on the offer.”</p><p>“Yeah, have some champagne.”</p><p>“Something stronger.”</p><p>Jaskier laughed and Geralt heard him shuffle underneath his jacket. Jaskier tapped his shoulder lightly and placed the flask on the balustrade in front of Geralt. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad,” Jaskier prodded, trying to meet his eyes.</p><p>Far too aware of his burning ears, Geralt took the flask, stubbornly refusing to look at him, and took a long sip. The liquid – cheap rum – burned his throat. Now everything was burning: ears, lips, throat and heart. “Shut up.”</p><p>Jaskier crossed his arms on his chest with a sheepish grin and a mischievous eyebrow raised. “I’ll let you know that I haven’t had any complaints so far.”</p><p>“Please, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re just too damn picky, Geralt?”</p><p>He groaned. Picky? Looking at his romantic history, the only common traits of his crushes were ‘unsuitable for the job’, ‘chaotic to a dangerous degree’ and ‘most likely to ruin his life.’</p><p>“Fine, fine, but don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily. You are going to have to rate me. I take customer feedback very seriously.” Jaskier conceded, still grinning. He leaned against the balustrade, facing Geralt, so close that Jaskier’s elbows brushed against his hands.</p><p>Geralt wasn’t sure if he had to say anything. He took another sip for good measure.</p><p>With a sigh that was halfway between bored and nonchalant, Jaskier fished his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. “Let’s bounce,” he said, elbowing Geralt in the ribcage. “It’s getting late and party’s over anyway. There’s a bus in 10 minutes. We’ll manage to catch it if we leave now.”</p><p>“Won’t your family mind if we leave?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s very impolite. They’ll hate it and that’s why it’s perfect.” Jaskier shrugged. “Besides, with the show of earlier, it’s quite likely we’re gonna have another funeral soon. I’m not sure my mom’s heart can handle that.”</p><p>Geralt groaned.</p><p>“I know what you’re going to say.” Apparently Geralt’s mumbled ‘Hm’ was a passable answer, as Jaskier continued rambling. “You’re gonna say that you hate me and that I’m the worst.” He leaned out on the balustrade once again, to meet Geralt’s eyes and snatch back the flask with the flash of a smile. “And yet you love me anyway.”</p><p>As Geralt gripped the cold marble tight, the only anchor in the ocean of deep shit he was in, he just sighed. That he did, and Jaskier didn’t even know the half of it.</p><p>Jaskier laughed, a limpid, carefree, oh-so Jaskier laugh. “Am I wrong though?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Tossed around the seat by the potholes, Geralt was tired. He knew it was going to suck at home and the slight nausea he was feeling was just partially caused by the reckless driving of the overly enthusiastic driver.</p><p>As they walked away from the estate, they hadn’t said a word, no cheerful chattering fromJaskier to lighten the atmosphere, no stupid puns or complaints about the bus being over 10 minutes late. The silence, once something so familiar, had weighed heavy on them and no amount of kicking gravel had soothed the gnawing at the back of Geralt’s mind.</p><p>Jaskier took off his jacket and folded it carefully over his lap. Admiring his job, he stifled a yawn and as he stretched his arms, he rested one around Geralt’s neck and shuffled closer.</p><p>Geralt froze. Like a trite dating ritual, it was too much. Jaskier’s forehead pressed on his shoulder was too much, everything was too much and, suddenly, Geralt couldn’t bear it anymore. “You can stop the charade now. Nobody is looking at us.”</p><p>Jaskier straightened his spine and stared at him, eyebrows knitted in worry. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“This… you… me.” Riled up and frustrated, he gestured towards Jaskier. How could he have been so blind? “It’s too much. I can’t do it.”</p><p>A shadow passed over his face but what hurt the most was how Jaskier recoiled away from him, as if he had been bitten by a venomous snake. His eyes were fixed on him, red and uncomfortably close to tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, slowly, carefully choosing each word.</p><p>Geralt didn’t say anything. Seeing Jaskier hurt because of him made him physically nauseous.</p><p>“It’s the champagne speaking. I am sloshed and I shouldn’t have done that.” He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “It’s just been a long day, I hate my family and I've wanted to do this for so long it doesn’t feel real still. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I shouldn’t have said that either. You are so precious to me and I don’t want to ruin what we have over something so foolish.”</p><p>Geralt had heard of heartbreak but, until then, he couldn’t believe the very real pain in his chest, a pain that choked his throat and made speaking difficult. “Do you think it was foolish?”</p><p>“Well, yes, I don’t know.” Jaskier chuckled and sniffled, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eyes. “Now it’s all fucked up and you won’t speak to me anymore.”</p><p>Geralt sighed. It was time for everything he built so painstakingly, all their shared moments, the laundry loads, hazy nights and half-eaten pizzas, to crumble down. Of course he knew this would eventually happen; he had just hoped to have more time, more time to know Jaskier, more time to love him as he deserved. “I… just can’t. I know this means nothing to you but it’s too much for me.” He had to say it. He had to be strong enough to stand up for himself, even if it drove the person he loved most in the world away. “You are <em>you</em> and you are so beautiful and you fall in and out of love so easily but it’s just not me. I can’t be your friend like this.”</p><p>“You can’t be my friend if I like you?” His shoulders were moving up and down, shaken by soft sobs, but his voice was clear and cut like a knife. “Sounds like it’s more my problem, doesn’t it?”</p><p>“You just want to get back at your family and it doesn’t matter if it’s me or anybody else.”</p><p>“Wait a second.” Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “You are upset because you think I only used you as my fake boyfriend to get back at my family?”</p><p>“Well, yeah.”</p><p>And then Jaskier started cackling so loud in the middle of the bus that a few passengers turned. “You’re such a dumbass, Geralt,” he barely managed to spit out in between laughs. “I don’t want to wait for another funeral to kiss you.”</p><p>“So you want to kiss me?”</p><p>“Obviously, dumbass, I like you. And I have for a long time,” Jaskier squeezed his arm and a little shiver went through Geralt’s body.</p><p>“Not a dumbass.”</p><p>“And that’s what you focus on?” Jaskier scoffed as he brushed their knees together. “Listen, let me take you out on a date and let’s make it a real one.” Jaskier smiled and it was genuine this time. Geralt could feel its warmth and it went straight to his stomach, where a thousand caterpillars were breaking out of their chrysalises with a flourish of colorful, fluttery wings.</p><p>“No oysters.”</p><p>Jaskier nodded solemnly.  “No oysters. We grab a pizza and a beer and we eat it by the canal like the broke students that we are. Sounds like a deal?”</p><p>It was time for Geralt to nod now and sigh contentedly when Jaskier nuzzled closer to him.</p><p>“Let’s get back to campus, dumbass,” Jaskier whispered, pressing a little kiss on his shoulder. “Then I’ll pry out of you the kiss rating. I want it to be perfect next time.”</p><p>Geralt nodded, interlacing their fingers together. There was no use in fighting with his idiot. Plus, he was a bit of a dumbass sometimes, even though he’d never admit it to Jaskier.</p><p>With the familiar weight of Jaskier’s shoulder pressed against his own, everything was alright with the world. They were going home but, nauseous and dizzy in that shaky bus, Geralt felt a little at home already.</p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, a big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayatheyellowbee/pseuds/mayatheyellowbee">mayatheyellowbee</a>, a ruthless beta and all-around amazing human being.</p><p>I loved writing this little something for the <a href="https://thewitchersecretsanta.tumblr.com/">Witcher Secret Santa 2020</a>! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. </p></blockquote></div></div>
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